


Some days waste, others fall apart

by MissTinfoilHat



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because I don't actually know yet, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Hurt/Comfort, Levi Whump, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pneumonia, Poor Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Quite possibly more people too who knows I mean... This story isn't set in stone, Sick Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Sickfic, There's some bickering but they love eachother, Underground Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTinfoilHat/pseuds/MissTinfoilHat
Summary: Levi's life is threatened by illness. Isabel and Furlan try to help him in the best ways they know how to.
Relationships: Furlan Church & Levi & Isabel Magnolia
Comments: 17
Kudos: 159





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many unfinished AoT stories that I don't even know (whump - ships - ships with whump - angst - Levi Levi Levi). But, this is the first one I've posted! I think this was supposed to be a part of whumptober, but I honestly forgot what the prompts were. Maybe I can angle it into something that fits it in the next chapter! 
> 
> I'm not planning to make this more than two or three chapters. But according to my record, that might change really quickly.

Furlan awoke from the strangled coughs and breathless heaves coming from the man in the bed at the other end of the room. His chest contorted and let out an uncomfortable twinge by the sound. 

Most people in the underground had ended up there during their teen or adult years, either because they had nowhere else to go, or because they had committed a crime that had sentenced them to an eternity below ground.

Either way, once you were there, you were sentenced to a faith below man. 

Furlan himself was part of the first category. He’d been underground for a few years now after his parents had been eaten by the titans. Before that, he lived a rather comfortable life in a small village between the mountains. His father was a priest, and he, his two older brothers, and his mother had helped to uphold the church. But once the titans had ravaged their small village, there was nothing, no one, left except him. 

His safest bet was to seek refuge underground. That’s where he met Levi. 

As far as he knew, Levi had lived his whole life down here. How many years that was, Furlan was unsure. In fact, he was pretty sure that Levi didn’t know himself. His real age remained a mystery, all though he had expressed that he was somewhere between twenty and twenty-five. He didn’t look like it, but Furlan had quickly realized that it was unwise to question anything Levi said. Actually, he found no reason to question it either. He trusted Levi with his life.

Furlan himself was nineteen, or at least, he thought so. Time did not pass as it did up there.

The choked heaves coming from his companion kept him awake most nights, but lately, it seemed to be getting worse. The air down here was contaminated by smoke, sewage, and gasses. Furlan had noticed it himself. Before he left the surface, he never got sick. Now, he would frequently experience periods of excessive coughing and a runny nose. But Levi seemed to be getting worse every day. 

Not that he ever acknowledged it, of course. 

Anything life above deemed worthy of such lowlives as them was unable to thrive down here. Nothing grew. 

No crops, no flowers nor grassy knolls. 

No child, or young adult. 

How Levi had been able to survive by himself all this time seemed more like a miracle than catching the rare glimpse of the sunset from their special place; beneath the ruins of the cathedral, someone once tried to build. Somehow, they had been allowed to build its towers to range above ground, but it had been easily ruined and shattered by titans.

In the few hours Levi slept at night, he would awake Furlan by his excessive coughing, and the feverish gleam to his skin had gotten too prominent to ignore now. Physical tasks would leave him breathless and fatigued, and as much as he tried to hide it, Furlan recognized the tell-tale limp he’d adopted these past couple of months. Levi was in a bad shape, but the stubborn man refused to acknowledge it. 

In many ways, Furlan refused to acknowledge it too.

Because Levi was supposed to be his _safety._

He was _strong_ and _reliable,_ and whatever Levi said, _went._

And Furlan had yet to experience Levi being _wrong_. 

_Except for when he claimed that he was fine.  
  
_Because Levi was _sick._

And that made Furlan _worried_ and _scared_ and _confused_ because Levi was _breaking_ and as long as everyone above ground was held at a higher regard than them and their lives underground, it would continue to be that way. 

All of a sudden, Levi heaved for air and shot up into a seated position in bed. Furlan startled and tossed his body off his own cot, scrambling across the floor towards Levi. The noirette tried to stifle his grating chokes, one hand bundled in his shirt and the other held out, keeping Furlan at a distance. 

“Go back to bed,” he croaked breathlessly between hacks. “I’m fine.” 

“Shut up,” Furlan said between clenched teeth and disappeared out of the room. He could hear Levi’s raucous coughs all the way out in the living room and their small kitchenette. Isabel had also woken up by the commotion and was sitting up on the couch, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes while Furlan grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the bucket they used to fill up every night. 

“Is Aniki okay?” Isabel asked half-dazed. She’d been living with them for a little over a week now. This was possibly the first time she had noticed Levi’s declining health. He was good at keeping it to himself, usually being away doing who-knows-what during the daytime, and seldom sleeping at night. 

“Yeah, he’s probably just coming down with something,” Furlan muttered non-committedly. There was no need to worry her. She peered at him with half-lidded eyes, before nodding, then turning her attention to the sparrow nested inside a box on the living room table. 

“That’s not good. I hope he feels better soon,” she drawled silently. “At least Grayson seems to be getting better.” 

Furlan paused on his way back into the bedroom. “Did you name it?” 

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Why not?” 

Furlan shrugged. “I don’t know. I just think of it as _the bird._ ” 

The redhead grinned brightly back at him. “I just think he needs the confidence. I think names helps with that, you know? Everyone likes to hear their name called. You wouldn’t thrive being just _the boy,_ right?” 

“I’ve never thought of it like that,” Furlan returned lightly, pausing right outside the door of the bedroom, noticing that Isabel seemed slightly dissatisfied by his answer. “Grayson is a good name for it though,” he hurriedly added. He waited to see her brighten before he returned to Levi. The coughing fit seemed to have eased a little by then, but his breath still seemed raspy and strained. 

“Drink,” Furlan requested- _demanded_. Levi seemed to be out of breath and looked paler than he usually did. He accepted the glass without argument and drank about half the liquid before the next cough caused him to choke on the water. 

“Easy,” Furlan prompted carefully. 

“Fuck off,” Levi retorted irritated under his labored gasps, and pushed the glass back into the ash-blonde’s hands. “I’m fine.” 

He laid back down and turned his back against Furlan, tucking his blanket tightly over almost unnoticeable trembling shoulders. 

“I’ll just leave this here,” Furlan muttered solemnly, leaving the glass on the floor beside Levi’s bed. 

“I can get my own water,” Levi croaked back, voice breaking in the middle of his sentence, leaving him close to mute.

“Doesn’t matter. I already brought you some.” 

Furlan got up and scampered back to his own bed, swaddling into his covers to escape the frosted air. Minutes went by with him merely listening to Levi’s wheezing breaths before the dim lights made his eyelids feel heavy. Eventually, he fell into a light, superficial sleep. 

* * *

  
When Furlan woke back up, Levi was gone. Something shuffled outside in the living room, and for a moment, he hoped that Levi had come to his senses and decided to stay home and rest. No such luck, however. 

Well actually, it was probably a good thing that he wasn’t there to witness the distressing state of their kitchen. Isabel had spilled flour all over the counter and spread random splatters of batter everywhere; cupboards, floor, walls. 

A stack of pancakes was resting on a plate by the small stove, while the culprit was stuffing her face full seated at their dining table, occasionally wiping jam off her cheeks with her sleeve.

“Mornin’,” she garbled between bites, smiling brightly. Furlan paused in the archway, assessing the chaos distastefully. 

“You do realize that Levi will kill you if the kitchen isn’t spotless when he gets home, right?”

“He’s out?” she asked obliviously, swallowing down her bite. “Must ‘ave gone pretty early. I didn’t hear a thing.” 

“Of course not. No one would with how loud you’re snoring,” Furlan muttered with a slight smirk, making his way towards the pancakes. 

“Hey,” Isabel squawked angrily. “I don’t snore!” 

“Sure you don’t,” he teased while he helped himself to the meal. 

“Shut your mouth or I’ll withdraw your jam privileges.” She quickly grabbed the half-full jar and protected it within her wingspan. 

“You can’t deny me food I own.”

“I bought it.”

“With Levi’s money. So, only Levi can deny me the jam.” 

“None of you brats will get any damn jam if you don’t shut up.” The teens’ attention was drawn to the door where Levi slanted in. He looked horrible with a bright blush across his cheeks, contrasting sharply to the black circles underneath his eyes and the unhealthy sheen to his pallor. 

Furlan knew better than to say anything. There was nothing he could tell Levi to make him listen anyway.

“Levi, you’re home early,” he said instead, trying his best to smile. Levi clicked his tongue, ignoring the younger man in favor of the littered kitchen. Furlan saw Isabel tense in his side-vision, anticipating Levi’s judgment with horror. 

“I’m gonna get cleaned up,” he muttered hoarsely, slowly making his way for the bathroom. His limp seemed more prominent today and Furlan reckoned he must have overexerted himself. “Clean up this mess after you’re done eating.” He smacked the door closed. 

Isabel let out a relieved sigh. “He must be in a good mood,” she grinned obliviously. Furlan shot her a deadpan glare. 

“That’s what you got from that exchange?” 

“Yeah? He didn’t get mad or nothing.” She lapped her plate for residue jam with her final pancake and crammed a large bite into her gap. 

“Yes, because he’s exhausted,” Furlan retorted silently. Isabel’s emerald eyes widened owlishly while he continued, “He’s sick, doesn’t sleep, and works inhumane hours to take care of us. Of course, he doesn’t have the energy to get angry.”

“But, we can help!” the redhead insisted urgently, struggling to swallow the doughy bite. “We can make money too! Then we’ll have like… double the amount or something, right? And he won’t have to work so hard!” 

“You can’t even keep the kitchen clean when you cook,” Furlan smirked.

“I was gunna clean that up,” she pouted, looking over at her mess shamefully. 

Furlan sighed. “I know. And I help him out sometimes and you can do that too. It’s just… the work down here is dangerous, Izzy. And Levi… is more cut out for that kind of-”

A noise, sounding like a bucket falling to the floor came from the bathroom. Furlan was up before the sound had even died down, rushing to the door with Isabel immediately at his heels. Flinging the door open, he found Levi kneeled at the floor, fighting to control his wheezed breaths while being ravaged by deep, hollow coughs. The bucket of water they used to fill the tub had been knocked over, cool water flooding the ground underneath Levi’s shivering body.

“Levi, what happened?” Furlan demanded, hovering above the struggling raven. Levi shoved the younger man away with one arm while coughing into the other.

“Out,” he managed to huff. The two teens backed away a few steps, but Furlan made sure to block Levi’s attempts of shutting the door. Patiently, they waited as Levi’s fit drew out. After several minutes, Levi’s head started lolling back and forth, and he peered disorientedly around the room. One look up towards Furlan and Isabel’s worried expressions sent the room spinning. Steel grey eyes rolled back and he finally slumped over onto the soaked floor, motionless. 

“Aniki?” Isabel called carefully. Furlan cursed under his breath and bowed down, quickly scooping Levi’s lifeless body off the ground and carried him to their shared bedroom. 

The small man was frightfully light despite his considerable muscle mass. Furlan knew instantly that he hadn’t been eating. He laid Levi onto his cot and started unbuttoning his soaked shirt. 

“Hey, Izzy,” he called. The girl stood restlessly in the doorway. “Can you get Levi a sleeping attire?” She gave a curt nod and began rummaging through the small dresser that held all of the boys’ clothes. Furlan continued undressing Levi, tugging his sleeves off before he paused. 

“What’s this?” he asked silently, mostly to himself, and held out the arm of the white shirt. 

“What’s what?” Izzy chimed in, coming to catch a glance at whatever Furlan was watching so intently. 

Several different sized drops of crimson dotted the middle of the sleeve. 

“Is that blood?” she asked alarmed, and Furlan nodded. 

“Yeah.” 

“W-what does that mean? Is he hurt anywhere?” The girl grabbed Levi’s arm and searched desperately for a wound, praying she would find one. The only thing she could find was a collection of new and old scars. None that bled. 

“Isabel,” Furlan spoke gravely. “There’s no use. It’s because of the air down here. It’s bad. It makes people sick.”

The short redhead glared back at him. “I’m not sick! And you’re not either,” she argued angrily. “Why does Aniki have to be sick?” 

Furlan merely shook his head. “Did you get his clothes?” he asked instead, reaching his hand out expectantly. Isabel grimaced and tossed the garments at him, before marching out of the room. After a few seconds, he could hear the front door being opened and shut. 

He hoped she would keep out of trouble.

* * *

The next few hours went by with Levi unconscious and Furlan doing what he could to lower his rising temperature. A soaked towel rested on Levi’s forehead, while Furlan kept dabbing off perspiration with another. 

He felt terrible while he switched Levi’s blanket out with a different thinner one. Levi’s teeth had been clattering before, but any added heat would only help his fever get even higher. Jarring coughs and raspy, painful breaths filled the air between them.

Once or twice, Levi’s eyes would flutter open and watch him for a few moments, before slowly falling shut again. Furlan couldn’t be sure if he was awake or not; if he knew what was going on, but it was reassuring nevertheless.

Only when the daylight started to fade out, did he hear the door open again. A worry in his chest that he didn’t know he was holding, ebbed out at the sound. He turned to greet her when the door behind him was opened and was startled when it wasn’t the feisty girl that came in. 

A young child, no more than six or seven stood and watched them curiously. His chopped brown locks were falling slightly beneath large, clear green eyes. 

“Eren,” a male voice called from the living room, and a spectacled man came stumbling after the boy, quickly grabbing his hand. “I told you to wait.” The man straightened with a small apologetic smile tugging at his lips. “I’m so sorry for that.” 

Furlan hurried to adjust his seat protectively over Levi. Before he could respond to the stranger in their bedroom, Isabel came dashing in after them. 

“I found a doctor!” she beamed proudly. “And not an underground doctor! A real one! From above!” She pointed towards the tall man as if he wasn’t standing right in front of them.

“W-what?” Furlan stammered in surprise. 

“A doctor! He has medicine, so he can help Aniki!” She leaped over to Furlan to check on Levi, clearly disappointed when she realized that he was not awake to witness her victory. 

“You can’t just drag a total stranger in here,” Furlan growled lowly at her. “We have no idea who this man is!” 

“Nonsense. He even has a kid with him,” she reasoned easily. “I met him as he walked out of a house about fifteen minutes away from here. He’s been accepting patience in the underground for the past month.” 

Furlan glared skeptically at the man who stood, resting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. 

“He has even seen Mr. Michael, and says he’s been doing better.” Furlan’s expression softened a little by the thought of the middle-aged man that tended at their favorite pub. He had been absent for the past couple of months due to his declining health. Hesitatingly, he got up and approached the tall doctor and reached his hand out to introduce himself. 

“Furlan Church,” he muttered, still not entirely sure about this being a good idea. But, if there was any chance that this man could help Levi, he was willing to take it, albeit under close watch. 

“Doctor Grisha Jäger,” he introduced himself, before placing his hand on the child’s head. “Your turn,” he instructed. 

“Eren Jäger,” the child said, squeezing Furlan’s hand weakly. 

“Isabel, maybe you can entertain my son for a little while in the living room while I examine the patient,” Grisha suggested pleasantly. Isabel smiled at the child and waved him energetically to come with her. 

Furlan and Grisha watched them go before the older man moved closer to the bed. 

“Levi, was it?” he asked Furlan, getting seated on the chair that Furlan had pulled up to the bed earlier. 

“Yeah.” 

The doctor leaned down to listen to Levi’s breathing for a moment, before opening his leather suitcase and pulled out a stethoscope. Furlan looked on as the doctor conducted his tests; listening, prodding, measuring, watching.

“How long has he had this cough?” Dr. Jäger asked severely, pulling off his glasses. 

“As long as I’ve known him. So, at least three, maybe four years. But it’s been gradually getting worse the whole time.” 

“How about the fever?” 

Furlan shook his head. “I can’t know for sure. Levi hasn’t said anything. But it became noticeable about a week ago.

Grisha nodded thoughtfully. 

“He was coughing blood today,” Furlan added. “Just before he passed out. I don’t know if it has happened before either, but it’s probably important.” 

“Thank you, it is.” The doctor brought out a thick hypodermic needle that made Furlan cringe. “I will extract some blood for a few tests, but I’m giving him a shot of antibiotics as well. It might have started as a respiratory infection, but considering the amount of fluid in his lungs and the fact that he’s been coughing up blood, it’s more than likely evolved into a serious case of pneumonia. Unfortunately, it’s quite common down here.” 

Furlan shifted nervously while he watched the needle fill up with blood. 

“How old is he?” Grisha asked suddenly. 

“I’m not sure about that either,” Furlan apologized. “Mid twenties, probably. I don’t think he knows himself.” 

“Not younger?” 

“No,” Furlan said, finally sure about _something_. “He’s definitely in his twenties.” 

The doctor hummed earnestly. “Well, he’s still a lot younger than most of the people whose lungs have progressed to this weak state. How about his legs? Do you know if he has any pains? Is he prone to breaking bones?” 

The uneasy feeling that was growing in the pit of the blonde’s abdomen spiked violently. “He’s been limping lately. And he had really bad swelling on his knuckles after a fight a few months ago. It looked like something was broken to me, but Levi refused to acknowledge it.” 

Carefully, Dr. Jäger lifted Levi’s right hand and watched it attentively, before he moved on to the left one. He proceeded to push the blanket off Levi’s legs and repeated the assessment.

“How did you know?” Furlan finally asked carefully, slowly moving closer. 

“How did I know what?” 

“About the leg, or bones, or whatever. Does it have anything to do with the other infection?”

“No, not exactly,” the doctor drawled. “But these issues are mainly the ones I’ve had to deal with after I decided to treat patients down here. There are hundreds, if not thousands of similar cases and my waiting list is quite long. The reason young Isabel managed to pique my interest enough to get me here, however, was Levi’s young age. People who’ve spent their whole lives underground might start to show signs of weak bones and decreased lung capacity in their thirties. Levi however, shows signs that I wouldn’t expect to see on someone younger than fifty.”

“What does that mean?” Furlan demanded urgently. 

“It means that Levi has a compromised immune system. And considering his small stature, I would guess that it stems from severe malnourishment during his childhood. That could have stunted his growth, but also leave him with a weak immune system.”

“People don’t usually live to their sixties down here,” Furlan uttered gravely. The doctor nodded. 

“They don’t. But, Levi is still stronger than most of my patients in the same progression of the disease he’s currently in. For most of my cases similar to this, all I can do is offer pain relief, and maybe push the inevitable back for a few months. But, if we start treatment quickly, I’m confident Levi can beat this.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi doesn't give a s*it that he's sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff Sandy says that should be ignored: "This will only be two chapters." 
> 
> First of all, thank you so much for the warm welcome into this fandom! I really enjoy writing AoT these days, especially anything involving hurt Levi cause I’m just a sucker for his stoic nature being peeled apart.
> 
> Second, I don’t have any extensive knowledge of medicine. Anything I write is from slightly half-assed research, some stuff for (typical manga/anime) dramatic effect, or whatever I feel like I kinda think I already may or may not know from being alive and stuff.
> 
> I am licensed to hand out medication though. I can’t prescribe medicine. Just, read a chart and hand it out. But I mean, I was supposedly number one in my course, so I can hand the shit out of those pills. 

Furlan swore he had never witnessed Levi sleeping consecutively for more than three hours straight in the four years he’d known him. Whatever Dr. Jäger had given him must have knocked him right out, and they hadn’t heard him cough for several hours. 

The doctor had left a few bottles with unnatural-colored contents that Levi was supposed to drink when he was awake at the bed stand. One was a tiny container with a rike odor that made Furlan’s eyes burn that he was told to place under Levi’s nose if he had trouble breathing again. The nineteen-year-old could still clearly visualize Levi’s reaction from a few hours ago when Dr. Jäger first had to use the pungent compound to make Levi draw a proper breath. Levi had inhaled sharply, eyelids covering storm-colored orbs flying open before a quick fist had dashed through the air, thrown at the well-meaning doctor. Luckily, Grisha Jäger seemed prepared for the sudden backlash and easily dodged the punch. He let out a disarming chuckle and assured Furlan that this had happened before. 

Obviously, Levi had been wary of the new presence in their house. If he really had lived his entire life underground, he had probably never even had a proper check-up by a real doctor. There were several  _ ‘doctors’  _ down there, but none that had actually studied conventional medicine. Not as far as Furlan knew, at least. Most of them appeared to be quacks, selling snake oil and dried, reeking animal parts with supposed healing abilities  _ (that Levi would never even allow  _ near  _ the house) _ .

A particular eccentric had tried to sell them an exorcism once, claiming that Levi was possessed by a demon. She had gone as far as to offer them a discount after Levi had gone off on her, chanting about how this was clearly a case of Lucifer himself.

On many occasions, Furlan had wondered if maybe he should have taken her up on her offer after all; witnessing Dr. Jäger try to coax Levi into accepting a spoon with one of the remedies, was one of them. 

Eventually, the fight had left Levi. Half-asleep, they had managed to push the utensil in between his lips and poured the thick liquid down his throat. The raven had muttered a weak,  _ “assholes,”  _ moments before fatigue claimed him.

In the living room, Isabel had somehow lured Eren into helping her clean up her mess from breakfast. The two seemed to be getting along well, and when Furlan and Grisha exited the bedroom, they had started dinner. Eren was deeply concentrated, chopping vegetables with a dull knife while Isabel was stirring the broth. 

Eventually, Eren  _ (and Isabel)  _ had managed to convince the doctor into staying for dinner, and with a sighed remark about how Eren’s mother was going to kill him, Grisha reluctantly agreed. With the time it took to make and eat the dinner, they did not manage to leave until the drunks were crowding the streets outside, and with the boy tucked tightly into his father’s side, the pair made their way towards the military’s tollbooth.  __

Furlan and Isabel had slanted off to bed minutes after the Jäger’s departure, Isabel to the couch in the living room and Furlan to his bed in his and Levi’s joint room. 

For hours, Furlan laid awake, eyeing the black container of smelling salts, listening to rigid inhales and razor-sharp exhales, alert to any tiny pause or hitch. The Levi-shaped bump shivered underneath the blanket; the only sign that he was still alive. Furlan gently laid his own blanket on top of the bundle once he was dressed, noticing how Levi’s shoulders seemed to ease into the added heat, a silent and contempt sigh whispering through cracked lips. His temperature was still high, but Furlan justified the additional cover to the bone-chilling cold that engulfed their house in the mornings. 

He strolled into the living room where Isabel was sleeping soundly. She whispered occasionally under her breath, inching closer to the back of the sofa. The wariness of a sleepless night tugged at Furlan’s eyelids, pulling them down and urging his body towards the peacefulness of the tattered furniture. Calmly, he lowered himself onto the seat Isabel wasn’t occupying, pulling his legs up under him. Red hair sprawled out on a pillow next to him, a small hand clawing tiredly at the pillowcase. A draft from the windowsill pushed into their modest house and left a chill run down his spine. 

Green eyes peeked drowsily between rowdy bangs. Wordlessly, Isabel shifted her pillow to rest on Furlan’s lap before she offered him her blanket, revealing a second rag covering her icy feet. 

“Shitty night, sleep more,” she murmured as she got comfortable, curling up on his lap. 

Furlan thought for a moment, casting a worried glance towards the bedroom where Levi was sleeping fitfully, then down at Isabel, who was already dead to the world, emitting worm breath against his stomach with her light snores. He was tired, more so than usual having watched over Levi for a good portion of the night. 

Picking up the offered blanket, he tucked it around his shoulders and sunk down on the couch, letting his head fall against the overstuffed cushions where he fell back asleep within seconds.

* * *

Both of them woke up an hour or so later. Out of habit, Furlan checked the bucket on the corner-counter for clean water, adding the small amount left into a brass kettle, putting it on the gas stove to boil before he got on his shoes to bring the bucket outside and filled it up at the well. Peering around,, he looked for his knitted sweater, but decided he probably had put it in the wardrobe yesterday. He would have to manage without; there was no way he would risk waking up Levi by rummaging around the bedroom when he slept so soundly for the first time in what had to be at least four years. Instead, he draped the blanket around his shoulder and headed out. 

The first batch was always for tea. The tea they made down here did not taste as good as Furlan remembered from  _ before,  _ but he guessed they could not get the same high-quality ingredients here. The dried leaves they would boil it on tasted bitter and bland, but they drank it all the same. The second and third batch of boiled water was cooked in a larger pot, and was used for personal hygiene. The fourth, fifth  _ (and so on, how many it may take)  _ was for chores; cleaning, dishes and so on. 

“Furlan?” a sleepy voice murmured from the couch when he came back inside. Two small fists rose above the back of the couch and Isabel groaned softly as she stretched. 

“Good morning,” he responded with a strained voice, dumping the heavy bucket on the counter before quickly removing the whistling teapot from the stove. “D’you sleep well?” 

The redhead peeked half-lidded towards him, a small pout on her lips. “Not really. I had a bad dream about Aniki.” 

Furlan paused for a moment, quickly realizing that he did not have any comforting words to offer her. Instead, he filled a mug with grimy tea and handed it to her before filling up his own and Levi’s designated cup  _ (the one with a cracked piece around the rim and a broken handle).  _

“At least he slept through the night,” Furlan muttered, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess that’s something.” 

“Except it’s not,” Isabel sulked, blowing on the boiling liquid. “He never does that. It’s only concerning.” 

“He’s sick, Izzy. Rest is good for him.” 

“Yeah, but…” The short redhead slid back against the armrest of the couch, nuzzling into her thick duvet with the steaming cup in her grip. “...it’s still nothing. It just means that he’s still sick.” 

Furlan couldn’t argue with that. The entire night had been filled with guttural coughing and struggling gasps for air. In all realness, the fact that he still hadn’t woken up was starting to become concerning. Even when he was out working all day, came back home drunk out of his wits, injured or… appearing like another piece of his soul had been ripped out, he never slept like this. 

“He is,” Furlan finally agreed. “But you found a doctor who believes that he can get better. He gave him medicine which makes people drowsy. As much of an übermench Levi might be, he gets tired from meds just like the rest of us.” 

Isabel pouted childishly, tucking her duvet tightly around herself. “I guess. Did Dr. Jäger say when he’d be back?” 

“He’ll try to stop by this evening. If anything changes, we should come look for him in the area you met him yesterday. If he doesn’t show up, he’ll be here before his rounds tomorrow.” 

“I think I’m gonna go find him anyway,” she stated determinedly. “Maybe he needs some help. I could be his assistant or something, make some money while Levi is sick.” 

“I mean, I guess it won’t hurt to ask,” Furlan drawled thoughtfully, picking up Levi’s cup to bring it to him. Isabel’s face lit up, hurriedly untangling her legs from her covers. The blonde smiled fondly, watching her bounce onto the floor as he started to get dressed while he headed for the bedroom. He carefully shifted the door open, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the windowless room. 

The blankets were neatly folded on the beds, wrinkle-free pillows propped against the headboards. The soaked clothing Furlan and Isabel had helped Levi out of the night before were removed from the spot in the corner, and Furlan knew he would find it in the laundry basket. With his heart leaping out of his chest, he returned to the living room, passed the kitchen area, and located the shoe-rack. Only two pairs of boots inhabited the ramshackle wooden shelf; Isabel’s small cinnamons, and his much larger dark ones. The black pair that usually stood between them was missing. 

“Damn,” Farlan snapped, quickly grabbing his shoes and started tying them on. The large pan on the stove started to boil and spat scalding water all over the hob, steaming and evaporating. With one boot on, Furlan leaped over and shut it off, pushing the pot away. 

Isabel came tumbling out of the bathroom, wide-eyed, and cheeks covered in toothpaste. “What’s going on?”

“He left,” Furlan sighed irritably, running his hand through his overgrown bangs. 

Thin, cherry eyebrows knitted together. “What?” 

“He left!” Furlan raised his voice, leaning heavily on the counter. A thin layer of sweat had gathered at his hairline. He swiftly wiped it off, shifting nervously. Isabel disappeared back into the bathroom for a brief moment, then returned fully dressed. 

“Let’s go!”

* * *

Levi leaned against the ruins of a brick building out of view from the main road. His ankle was hovering a little above the ground to put his weight off it. The limb felt warm and pulsated in rhythm with his heartbeat. The violent throbbing made it feel like his leg was about to burst out of the tightly knitted walls of his calf-high boot and the added weight of his stolen ODM gear didn’t help. The hem of Furlan’s sweater hung awkwardly mid-thigh, but his own thin jacket simply wasn’t enough to keep the merciless morning-chill out. 

The memories of the day before were hazy. The last thing he remembered was getting home after stalking a group of gun-traffickers from above-ground to their warehouse. Then, he woke up with a luke-warm rag across his forehead and a tower of blankets on top of him in the bedroom. A crushing headache laid heavy in the back of his head and down his shoulders, his lungs were stuffed and airflow restricted, while his joints were stiff and painful. 

That didn’t matter though, because today, a few lowlifes from the Underground were coming to purchase those firearms  _ (another group of idiots trying to gain power in a place where power was useless--- didn’t mean Levi wanted a herd of trigger-happy jackasses waving around semi-automatics in his home though) _ , and Levi would be damned if he wasn’t there to offer a few rifle-colonoscopies to make them change their minds. 

Testing his weight on his weak limb, he kept walking inside the shadows, tracing the wall with his arm for support. 

Eventually, he arrived at the large building, close to where the tunnel they called home ended and about an hour from the public areas. There looked to be several entrances, but Levi no longer “did” entrances anymore. He released a hook from his gear. The point connected to the roof and swung him seamlessly through the air and clumsily landed on his knees on top of the building to protect his wounded ankle. Brick tiles smashed under his modest weight, but Levi bit his lips and swiftly moved across the uneven edges, before he swung his body through one of the shattered windows high up on the three-story building.    
  
His boots hit rotten wood, the lithe landing soft and noiseless. The impact left a cloud of dust to rise and brush through the air, provoking the scratchiness that lingered unyieldingly in his throat. Stifling his coughs, he couldn’t help but worry about how his vision kept blurring every time he exerted himself. But, as always, he pushed it to the back of his mind and kept going forward. 

His movements weren’t as fluid as they usually were. Every time he put weight on his left leg a sharp pain shot through and threatened to cut his control over it. That couldn't be allowed to stop him; not when he could hear the deal going on from the open floor downstairs. He lowered to his knees, letting his body glide over the floor until he reached the edge; a small fence overlooking the main floor beneath. 

There were twelve people except for Levi; five military police and seven thugs. Levi had to wait until the deal was closed until the MP’s had left. They were all armed and skilled in combat; the thugs were only armed, but probably had no idea how to use the weapons they had just purchased. Levi could easily take them out. 

Crawling over towards a stable of crates, he settled behind them, letting his aching leg stretch, massaging the knee tentatively. His breath was starting to feel strained, each inhales raspy and inconveniently noisy. Thick drops of perspiration ran down his forehead and bled into the fabric of Furlan’s sweater. Was it getting hotter in there? 

Tugging at his collar, he eventually decided to pull off the itchy woolen jumper, abandoning it behind the wooden boxes. He could hear the deal coming to an end, and he started scooting over to where he’d spotted a ladder to the floor beneath, out of view from where the men were talking. He needed to get down there now while the group was still busy. 

He skidded his body down the hole in the floor, catching the first step, and started climbing down. Only a few feet from the end, his left leg failed to hold his weight and folded beneath him, resulting in him losing his grip and plunging to the floor. 

Trying to land on his feet, his left leg caught his fall. It seized agonizingly, bending awkwardly beneath him, and instantly forced him to the ground. The impact with the stone floor sent him into an immediate coughing fit. He heaved, catching for air that refused to fill his lungs. Small hands clutched his mouth, trying to stifle the sound as much as possible but he couldn’t stop it. His chest trembled with the cramping hacks and his whole body sized. 

By the time he had been surrounded, his mind was anywhere but there. A filter of haziness made a divide between himself and the danger encircling him. A curtain of black sparkles spotted his vision, and he was unaware of the bad company until a heavy boot stomped on his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a Kudo and/or comment! 
> 
> I have so many ideas for AoT (many much darker than this, but I didn't want to start off too dark). 
> 
> Also, Furlan or Farlan?

**Author's Note:**

> Reading this back, I realize the chapter feels a bit too fast-paced for my liking, and the ending is a bit abrupt. I'll make it up to you in the next one!
> 
> Please leave a Kudo if you liked it, and perhaps a comment! It's always a little scary to share a story in a new fandom. You haven't really found "your place" yet, ya know? 
> 
> Stay around if you're interested in more hurt Levi fics!


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